All fair things
by Celegorm and Curufin
Summary: This story is a love story, written in the medium of journal entries, between Nolofinwë and Anairë, characters in the Silmarillion. Curufin writes Anairë and Celegorm writes Nolofinwë.
1. Chapter 1

**167th Cycle of the Trees, 1273.**

_Anair_ë

The soft light of Telperion surrounds me as I sit here in the silence of my chamber. The house has gone to bed, yet sleep still eludes me. Tomorrow my father has insisted that I attend the feast and ball at the home of King Finwë, and while he has stated repetitively that he wishes me to do so simply for my own pleasure, I know that he has an ulterior motive. Marriage. Father desperately wishes me to marry. I know that perhaps he thinks it strange for the youngest to marry before the eldest, but I do not have so very many years yet, and I have always promised myself I shall not marry unless I find love. Love! I do not even know if I am sure of what it is. The bards and loremasters sing of it, but is there any way to define it to one who has never experienced it? I know I love the feel of clay in my hands, and the way it bends to my desire. I love song, and the sound of the sea, and the stars that Varda Elentári has given us. I love my mother and father, and my sisters, and I love and revere the Valar only slightly less than I love and revere Eru Allfather. But yet from the poetry and ballads that I hear I suppose that love between ner and nís is something quite different indeed. A meeting of the fëar. A reflection of yourself in the very being of another. A trust that will never be betrayed. A friendship that is forever. Is it all these things? Or is it even more? Is love as transcendental and ultimately sublime as Eru himself who created it? A ballad by Makalaurë, dedicated to his wife, posited that it was only through love for her that the true glory of Eru became finally visible...

But what do I know of such things? My sister married well, and she is happy, but I do not know that she married for the deepest love. It was an advantageous marriage for both of them, and I know that they are fond of each other...but is that love? And if it is - or even if it is not - how shall I find love? I am a simple girl, not a princess to be swept off my feet like in Makalaurë's ballads.

But I shall go to King Finwë's ball tomorrow, and I shall try to do my best. I know that father worries for me. He thinks that I am lonely, and perhaps I am, although I rarely have trouble keeping myself busy, not with my clay and learning grandmother's secrets of healing. There is so much to learn in this world that my heart and mind are often full of it...perhaps that is why I have never had time for love?

Or perhaps it is because we are simple Noldor, and I am not particularly beautiful? Oh, I know I am not hideous, but I do not shine like the ladies I have seen at previous balls, or like my sister, who seemed to have a Light of Beauty within her.

Father has warned me not to set my sights too high - not to fall for someone who is above my reach. I have promised him that I will not, although I am not sure that I understand his warning. It is not impossible for a Prince of the Noldor to marry a girl like me - there are no rules against it. Lady Nerdanel was quite common indeed when Prince Fëanáro wed her so long ago. I am not Lady Nerdanel, and I do not expect such things, but I do not understand 

my father's fear on the matter. Perhaps he simply believes that I will be happier with someone lower, and I think perhaps I agree. I do not aspire for wealth or riches, but merely for happiness and love. A home to call my own and children would complete my hopes for myself.

For father's sake, I shall try to find that tomorrow, among the many Eldar who will be gathered at King Finwë's ball. And deep inside, I do so hope that I find it.

_Nolofinwë_

Business Agenda for this morning's meeting: Tomorrow's Ball.  
Attending: Father, Arafinwë, myself.  
Proceedings: Everything is under control. The kitchen staff have started their preparations, and the decorations are being set up. Arafinwë has compiled the list of dinner guests and passed it on to the toastmaster.  
Meeting adjourned after an hour and a half.

When I read these notes, I find myself thinking that next time I read them, next decade or next century or whatever, I'm going to find the business part of them far less important than the personal section. What does it matter whether the dinner was under way well in advance or was scrambled together at the last minute? If there's some mishap, things will be better next time, and in a few years' time the mishap will be forgotten.

But I will want to know what I thought about our meetings. And what I thought about the Ball. My own point of view will be more important to look back to in the future. I will want to look back to the young man I was then (now), and compare it to the wise old man that I am now (then). If I ever become a wise old man.

Arafinwë says that he cannot see me as a very wise man, old or not so old. I'm too impetuous, he says. He should know. He's a wise man already, even with being so much younger than I. He is wise enough to stay out of quarrels. I am not.

I don't know why he is so much better than me at just letting our half-brother's insults go over our heads. It's due to his wisdom, probably ...

But I just cannot take it lying down! What right does Fëanaro have to question the decision of the Valar? Who does he think that he is? Who is he to say that it were better if my brother and I had never been born - if our mother had never married our father? And the names he calls her - I'm ashamed to write them down!

Father seems not to hear. Otherwise, wouldn't he take offense? It's his wife who is being insulted - and it's his own actions that are being criticized!  


But Fëanaro is his favorite. Oh, I don't have a lot of problems with that. Even though he is, I know that father loves his other two sons as well. I don't feel unloved.

Other than by my half-brother.

I don't know when I first realised that he didn't love me - that he didn't even like me. I don't remember one particular occasion - I just seem to always have known. Father would play games with me, we could have fun - but when Fëanaro was around, and I asked him whether he would join us, he just snorted at me and walked away. I soon stopped asking.

But father has always tried to be fair - to some extent. If Fëanaro got the best - well, he is the oldest, isn't he? I suppose that accounts for something. And father has always made much of each of us, even of the girls. All the parties he's thrown for us, for one thing. I assume that's nice of him - objectively speaking.

Like tomorrow's Ball.

It's in honor of Findis on occasion of her birthday coming up soon. It's not a birthday party as such, those are usually just intimate family gatherings, and it's not even on her birthday - but she is the guest of honor, as we all are, one after another, once a year. Father has even given Balls on the occasion of the births of his grandchildren, but it seems he will leave it up to the parents how they will celebrate the birthdays of the next generation.

Of course, it's only Fëanaro who has given him any grandchildren so far. The rest of us haven't got married yet.

And that's the reason why I've begun to hate these Balls. Because I'm not desperate to marry - and the Balls are full of maidens who are. Who are desperate to marry me, particularly. Or who have parents who are desperate to have their daughters marry me.

The dinner is always for invited guests, while the Ball following it is open for everyone. And everyone comes - to search out me or my younger brother.

I hate being on display like that. And Arafinwë feels the same about it. We dread these affairs where the maidens flock around us, each of them strutting and displaying herself, hoping that tonight - just tonight - she might catch my eye for some serious business.

Of course, these Balls tend to become a meeting place in their own right. Many young couples met for the first time at one of father's Balls. When people cannot get the first prize, they settle for a lesser one.

I used to enjoy the parties given in my honor. I liked being the centre of attention, to make sure I shared a greeting or a few words with everyone present - to show my half-brother that 

he was not the only one who could have a way with words and catch people's interest.

But that was before I was old enough to be viewed as a possible match. Or rather a good catch.

Yes, objectively speaking it's nice of father to give tomorrow's Ball. I wish he would give less of them for a while, though, until Arafinwë and I have found our own wives in our own time and in peace. We try to avoid the Balls if we can, but it depends on the occasion. Usually, out of politeness, at least one of us should attend. Oh yes, the unlucky one is always ever so polite, welcoming the maidens, dancing one dance with as many of them as necessary. But we run off as soon as we've done our duty.

Tomorrow, with our sister being the guest of honor, we both have to be present. At least with two of us, there should be less for each of us to have to cover. It's a relief.


	2. Chapter 2

**169th Cycle of the Trees, 1273**

_**Anairë**_

By the Valar, why am I such a fool?! How could I let such a thing happen? How could I do this to myself...to my father and mother? How could my fëa be so fickle? If indeed, it is fickle. I suppose that inconstancy should be something I should hope for from my heart now, but I fear it will not be the case, and that my heart - and my fëa - are truly lost forever.

To Prince Nolofinwë.

To someone who would never notice a brown mouse among all the lovely ladies attending the ball, dressed in their finery, and with their shining, almost overpowering beauty. To someone I must never hope for. Daughters of scribes do not marry princes. Especially less than beautiful daughters of scribes. Less than beautiful daughters of scribes who find themselves awkward and uncomfortable in social situations. As if I could ever make him a good wife! The wife of a prince cannot be shy and fear society and balls, as I do. Could anything be more absurd?

Ah, yes, Anairë, you are indeed the most foolish of ladies.

And yet...

I only saw him for a brief moment, his back to me as he spoke to a guest. But...but I found myself drawn to him immediately. To his proud bearing - showing a confidence that I do not have. To his broad shoulders and strong arms - seeming to offer me a protection and a security I have never before known. But most of all, to his fëa, which I felt as soon as he stepped into the room. I wish I could explain what it felt like when he came into the room. The overpowering feeling of being no longer alone, of having found someone who could understand me on a level that I have never been understood before – perhaps even on a level I have not understood myself. The feeling of security, of protection, and yes, of joy. The joy of finding someone from whom you have been long sundered, and knowing that you were always meant to know them. And to love them.

And I love Prince Nolofinwë.

He, on the other hand, did not notice me. I left the room as quickly as I could, fearing that he would see me and think me silly - or worse. I did not want to trouble him with my feelings; I did not want him to know that I - like every girl in the room - loved him.

Is this what love is? This empty, gnawing ache? This hunger, this longing? It is not at all, then, the joy of which poets speak, but a horrible, burning pain! I close my eyes and I see him - I lie in bed and I think of him, tossing and turning, and unable to sleep. And yet I will not burden him with my feelings. He deserves better. My life must continue on as if I had never met him, never loved him. Perhaps I can still marry - although the idea seems repugnant to me now.

I must pull my head from the clouds.

You are a practical girl, Anairë, and practical you must remain. You cannot afford such dreams. There is work to be done. Tomorrow I must fire the cups I have made, and perhaps complete another statue to take to the market next week. If I can sell enough, perhaps there will be enough to make Riamë a new dress. It has been a long time since she has had one, and it is truly sad, when my sister is so lovely, to see her clothed in rags. I do not need such things, but it gives me joy to see her finely dressed. I do not resent being the plain one. Eru has given me other gifts. I should prefer to have my skill with clay - and the peace that comes from working it - than to have Riamë's beauty. Although -

No, I shall not think such things. I shall not let _him_ enter my mind again. I shall cast all thoughts aside and banish him forever from my mind.

If only that were possible.

_**Nolofinwë**_

169th Cycle of the Trees, 1273

Business Agenda for this morning's meeting: Tonight's Ball.  
Attending: Father, mother, Arafinwë, myself.  
Proceedings: Mother says that everything is under control.  
Meeting adjourned after half an hour.

I'm so tired I can hardly write. The Ball was a lot more stressful than I had anticipated. What a fool I was to think that with Arafinwë also present, we could share the load between us and thus halve it! There were twice as many maidens there to throng around both of us, so it didn't help at all. The whole city must have realised that we would both be attending. I've hardly ever seen the house so tightly crammed.

I'm getting quite good at faking, though. I'm smiling at one young maiden after another - it is after all part of my duty to make sure that she has a good time. I just hope I won't welcome the same maiden twice, thus making it obvious to her that she has made no impression on me whatsoever ...

Fortunately it is not my duty to choose a bride. At least not yet. Father and mother never put any pressure on us. They want us to wait for the right person. Mother especially knows what it's like to have your relatives - not her brother, though - whispering about you, wondering why you can never make up your mind. In her case the worrying went on for decades. With my brother and I, no one is really worried yet.

And father has got some grand-children already, from his favorite son - so he is in no hurry to get any from me.

My sisters, on the other hand, think that I should make up my mind soon and bring them a beautiful noble lady for a sister-in-law. They're teasing me, knowing how much I hate being on display like this. Findis is forever pushing candidates at me and asking me afterwards why I didn't fall in love with them on the spot.

I cannot fall in love on command, thank you very much.

They also say that if none of the Noldor are good enough for me, then perhaps I should go find a Vanyar princess, like father did. But I hardly know the Vanyar princesses! I meet them at balls like tonight's, and it's not very conductive for getting to know each other - goes for all those trying to catch me as well, although I doubt that any of them think about that. And those Vanyar princesses that I do know, are too close kin to be suitable for marriage anyway.

Then, to top off my dread of the Ball, there is my usual nightmare to avoid. Fortunately, tonight Fëanáro wasn't attending. More often than not, he's sending a son instead, and his eldest son especially is a lot more civil than his father. He was there tonight, we greeted each other friendly enough - but even with him, most of the time I still feel some tension.

I should stop writing now, it's awfully late and I really need my sleep. There was one strange incident, though - I really don't know what to make of it. I should write about it tomorrow, rather - maybe it will make more sense then.


	3. Chapter 3

**171st Cycle of the Trees, 1273**

_**Anairë**_

A great deal has been accomplished today. I fired my last batch of cups, and thankfully, all of them survived the process. There is nothing more frustrating than going to the trouble of sculpting and painting a piece, only to have it crack in the kiln. I also finished three small statues of the Valar, with which I am well pleased. They should earn me a fair bit at the market.

Marisë my sister visited today with her new husband, as well. They seem quite happy with each other. Father seemed well pleased to see her. Although she was the middle child, I have always felt that she was father's favorite. I suppose it is not so odd, really, as they have a great deal in common. I, too, am glad that she is happy, and while I wish in my heart that I, too could find such contentment, I do not begrudge my sister her happiness.

Contentment. Is it the same as happiness? Is it less? Is it more? Can one be happy without being content, or content without being happy? I suppose I could say that I have been content, as I have never lacked anything I need, and I enjoy my craft and being close to my family. And yet...and yet I fear that my contentment has been shattered. Today, nothing has seemed as simple as it was, or as comforting. Today, when I saw my sister, I felt - not envy - but...but it was a desire to have someone look at me in the same way that her husband looked at her. To be first in someone's eyes. To share my deepest thoughts and dreams with someone who I know will understand. To be able to share my fears and faults with someone, and know that they will love me despite them. I do not begrudge my sister this happiness - alas, I am overjoyed that she has found it - I only wish that I could find it for myself, as well. I have always dreamed of someday finding love, but I am not sure I knew what that meant before last night.

Of course, he does not even know who I am. He did not show up on my doorstep this morning, a lovelorn swain, desperate to see me and take me as his wife. Reality is not a ballad. I do not blame him for not noticing me - it is laughable, really, to think that he would see me across a crowded ballroom and suddenly our fëar would meet and all would be well. Life does not work that way.

And while there is pain in knowing that I shall spend my life loving him from afar (for I see no end in sight to this affliction, nor am I sure I would want to see the end), there is also joy. Joy that I have experienced this feeling - this part of life that I had never known before. Joy that my heart is capable of feeling such a wonderous thing. Even the pain is of a special sort, and even in its worst moments makes me feel more alive than I have ever felt before.

But enough, Anairë! What good can possibly come of moping and pitying myself for my plight? None at all.

I love Prince Nolofinwë. I cannot escape that. But my love does not change who I am, or my responsibilities. It does not give me leave to wander around with my head in the clouds when there is work to be done. I have _estel_ that Eru acts for a reason, and that somehow this experience is for the best. I must leave it at that.

_**Nolofinwë**_

No meeting this morning. There usually isn't after Balls.  
We can all have a lie-in instead.

I said that there was a strange incident at the Ball - after thinking about it for some hours, I still don't know what to make of it. I should write down all the details, perhaps I will understand more of it later, but then I need to remember exactly what happened.

It happened as I entered - no, that's not where it started. My state of mind when I entered the room is probably significant, too.

I was approached by a man who didn't immediately introduce me to a daughter, which was a relief. He mentioned a son, so I hoped that they were there for the son to seek a bride - there should be a few to choose from! I took great care not to mention the subject of daughters - but I was tense, worried that he would mention it himself after all.

He started telling me a story, while we were going towards the next room. I got even more tense - would Fëanaro be there after all? It's almost an instinct with me now - even when I've talked to his son, and I should know that he won't be around, I still get tense ... And I was also worried about the next crowd of maidens that might be waiting right inside the doorway to throw themselves at me.

Then we crossed the doorstep to the next room - and immediately I relaxed. There was a presence in that room - another fëa, one that I could relax with, one that could soothe my own very tense fëa. It was a female fëa, a maiden. She was somewhere behind me. I wanted to turn around and see her, but the man I was talking to, was still telling his story.

I was polite, I didn't turn away from him, but I must have given him less than my full attention. I was basking in the soothing effect of that other fëa. What should I compare it to? The closest I can get, is the feeling in my shoulders when I go to the healers to have them massaged. Only this wasn't physical like my shoulders - this was a relaxation of my fëa, not just my hroa.

She meant comfort, friendship, comradeship. My fëa just knew. And still I hadn't seen her.

I knew that as soon as the man finished, I would turn around and see her, and go over to her and welcome her in person. But he took his time, and I had to be polite ...

And suddenly the presence disappeared. The maiden had left the room. My fëa knew that her fëa was no longer in my close vicinity. As soon as I could, I disengaged myself from the man - hoping that I didn't seem too abrupt - and turned around to look for her.

But what should I look for?

I don't know what she looks like. Even if I would try to ask someone who was present, who she is, I have no way of telling them who I mean. I have no description to give. And yet I know that my fëa will recognise hers immediately if we ever meet again. My healer.

If only I had known by what door she had left, I would have tried to go after her. But there was no telling - she could have left in any direction. And not only that - but I had this strange feeling that she had fled. I suspected that I wouldn't be able find her in the palace at all.

So what do I make of it? I believe that she could become a good friend, if only I could find her. To find a companion who could have that sort of effect on me - my fëa knew right away how valuable such a person could be. Should I search for her, to see whether we could develop such a friendship - such a companionship?

But I don't know - maybe this was something that was meant to be - something that either was meant to be only for those few moments tonight, or something that will become a more lasting friendship on some later occasion. Maybe I shouldn't try to find her at all, but wait for the providence of the One to bring us back together again. If it was meant to be at all, and not just coincidence - which I don't really believe in.

And there isn't much I can do to try to find her anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

**177th Cycle of the Trees, 1273**

_**Anair**__**ë**__  
_  
Today was a successful day at the market! I sold all of my statuettes of the Valar, a pair of cups, and three bowls. Now the work must begin again in order to have enough goods that I may do as well next week. With my earnings, I was able to buy a length of silk cloth with which to make Raimë a new dress. I must start on that as well. Tomorrow, in addition, I must meet with my father's mother who has promised to give me yet another lesson on the healing powers of herbs. There is much to do, but I enjoy being busy and feeling useful.

I think I shall always look back on last week's ball as the day my life changed. As the day I grew from a girl into a woman. After the initial shock of what had happened, it has not been so painful; indeed, it has been the opposite. I have found myself singing more, laughing more, _feeling_ more. The world has seemed more joyful, the lights brighter, my family more dear. Everything seems to have taken on a new gleam, as if this love inside me is shining on the world. How could I possibly regret that? I am a woman, I am alive, the world is a lovely place, and I love! Whether or not he returns that love seems almost unimportant.

I have not seen him since the ball, but I think about him often. What is he doing this moment? Is he happy? Sad? Lonely? Perhaps Eru will smile on him as well, and grant him the joy that is warming _my_ heart. I would be speaking untruths if I did not say that I wish, if He did, Prince Nolofinwë would love _me_, but most of all I simply wish him happy.

This must be the joy of which Makalaurë sings. This freedom, this life, this knowledge that my heart has been touched by the very hand of Eru. For is there anything that tells us more clearly that Eru loves us than this? It is, perhaps, our closest glimpse of the very spirit of Eru and his everlasting love.

The candle flickers; I must sleep.

Nolofinwë, to you I wish the sweetest of dreams this night, and that you may find love for yourself to match that which you have awakened in me.

Goodnight, my love, and may Eru hold you this night in the palm of his hand.

_**Nolofinw**__**ë**_

Business Agenda for this morning's meeting: Evaluation of the Ball.  
Attending: Father, Arafinwë, myself.  
Proceedings: The Ball was successful. Arafinwë keeps a list of minor items to remember for next time.  
Meeting adjourned after an hour.

I had a horrible start of the day. Will I ever be able to stay out of quarrels? What is it about my younger brother, that he's always able to just take those comments in his stride, and walk away unperturbed? Sometimes I think that the Vanyarin blood runs stronger in him, giving him a gentler nature. I'm altogether too much of a Noldo ...

I was at the market, looking for a birthday present for Findis. There's still a fortnight to go before I need it, but I like to have time to look for something really nice. She's teasing me, I know, but I still love her dearly - the same goes for my other sister. On both points.

My attendant told me that he had seen some very good statuettes of the Valar, and he was about to take me to the stall where he had found them, when we were interrupted by my brother. My half-brother, that is. Fëanaro. Often when he meets me, he makes a point of pretending not to see me. Not today.

"I talked to my son about the Ball," he said. "I asked him whether he was given the honor of the second dance with Findis - after father, of course."

I paled. We hadn't even thought about there being any ranking other than father having the first dance with her. I remembered vividly Maitimo and myself standing next to each other, watching them dancing. They had the floor to themselves for that first dance, almost like the bride and groom at a wedding ball. When they finished, they came straight over to us, and Findis thrust herself into my arms, and I swept her back onto the dancing floor, while the other couples started dancing as well. I enjoyed our dance - she's a good dancer, and she does not see me as a potential husband. Unlike most of the ladies I danced with at the Ball.

I assume that Maitimo danced with her as well at some point, but he did not do so straight after me - he was already dancing with someone else then. He hadn't seemed to have any problems with the proceedings. Had he complained to his father? It wouldn't be like him to do so without notifying us first.

"He tried to avoid the issue," Fëanaro continued, a degree of contempt clearly present in his voice. "But in the end he answered that no such honor had been given him. I want you to make sure that this is rectified next time there is a similar event. He does after all belong to the legitimate branch of Finwë's house."

I bristled.

"But you still see a dance with Findis as an honor?" I asked. "With your attitude, I would have thought that you would rather not touch her."

He told me what I could think about his attitude, I answered in kind, and soon we were rehashing the usual list of insults.

People in the market were staring at us with that mixture of worry and fascination that is common under such circumstances - staying close enough to hear any good tidbits of the quarrel, but sufficiently far away not to risk becoming involved. My attendant - poor man - has developed a suitable stance for himself for such occasions. He has, after all, heard it all before.

When Fëanaro left - after getting the last word as usual - I was in no fit state for handling fragile pottery. We decided to leave the statuettes for next week. My attendant told me that there would be pots and vases as well, if the statuettes were all gone.

I've told Arafinwë about it, of course. He always sighs, and wonders when I will learn. I fear I never will. When I think about Fëanaro's attitude - yes, exactly, his attitude! - it makes my blood boil. Even now. I suddenly think of that maiden at the Ball. My healer, I called her. Yes, I could do with her healing presence right now. I need to relax.


	5. Chapter 5

**183rd Cycle of the Trees, 1273.**

_**Anairë**_

Could any sister ever be more proud? Raimë, my youngest sister, attended her first ball today. Indeed, it was not such a very big one - not at the house of any of the noble familes of the Noldor - but it was her very first, and she was so excited that I did not think she would make it until the ball began. She wore the blue silk gown I had hastily put together for her - it was lovely, although perhaps the embroidery was not as intricate as I would have liked. It had taken me a good deal of time to save up for the fabric, and time had been short. Still, she looked nearly as one of the Valar in it, with her joy and excitement radiating from her like the light from the Trees. It made me glad to see her thus, and to know that I had a part in that beauty.

But that was not all I had to be proud of - for I was not the only one who noticed her beauty that night. As her chaperone, I had plenty of time to watch as dance after dance she was taken by yet another marriagable young man for a turn around the dancefloor. Some were highborn, some not - but on each she turned her lovely smile and held them transfixed. She did not sit out one dance! It warms my heart to see her so adored, and to know that she, too, certainly will find love. It is all I wish for her - that she find this love that I feel, and see it reflected in the eyes of the one she loves. Could anything be more sublime than that?

I danced tonight as well, although I was not nearly as popular as Raimë. I was not hurt, though - none of the men I danced with held any particular interest for me. I found myself comparing each one to Prince Nolofinwë, and each one came up sadly short. But I must say that I enjoyed this ball more than I have ever enjoyed one before. There was no fear of rejection, no anxiety at having to impress my dance partner - there was only the joy of the music and the dance, and the rejoicing of the harmony of _hröa_ and _fëa_ that such movement entails.

Less happily, however, did news come to me tonight of Prince Nolofinwë. It appears that a few days ago, he and his half-brother, Prince Fëanáro, quarrelled on the streets of Tírion, not far from the market where I was selling my crafts. My heart clenched as such news was related to me, and anger built in my heart at the unkind and unfair words of Prince Fëanáro. Fëanáro is great - there is no doubt of that - but he is Elda, and has not the wisdom or foreknowledge of the Valar. How does he think that he has the right to challenge the Valar's statute, or to impugn Prince Nolofinwë's birth, or question his legitimacy? I could almost feel in my _fëa_ how much this would upset him (yes, I know that it is silly to think I can be so connected to one who does not even know my name, but alas, I cannot help it), and I hurt for him, hearing these cruel words and taunts. I found myself wishing I could be there to soothe him, to heal him, to tell him that he was loved, to hold him and run my fingers through his thick black hair...

Anairë! Again you are letting your thoughts run wild with dreams, silly girl! One would think you were a girl instead of a grown woman!

To bed! The morning comes sooner than I might wish and there is a great deal to be done if I am to be ready to return to the market and sell my goods again in only five cycles.

Goodnight, dear Nolofinwë. Tonight, in my dreams, I shall sleep in your arms and soothe your hurts.

_**Nolofinwë**_

Business Agenda for this morning's meeting: Letter of apology after the Ball.  
Attending: Father, Arafinwë, myself.  
Proceedings: Decided upon the main contents of a letter of apology to Maitimo. Arafinwë is given the task of writing the actual letter.  
Meeting adjourned after two hours.

It was one of the most difficult meetings we've had for a long time. I don't like discussing Fëanáro's insults with father. I know that he knows that his first-born son dislikes his second marriage, and I'm sure that it hurts him, although he never talks about it. I don't like being the one to remind him.

It's strange that even with what Miriel did to him, he still loves her so much. I can tell. I sometimes wonder whether he loves her more than mother - although perhaps not. It seems to me that he loves them in different ways, which cannot really be compared. I've never dared talking to mother about it. It would be even more difficult than talking to father.

Perhaps it's because of what Miriel did to them, that he makes sure always to let Fëanáro know in what high regard he holds him. Perhaps he feels that he has to give him the love of both parents, since she's not there to give him her part. I fear that if he - the Valar forbid - would ever have to choose between us, he would choose Fëanáro and abandon my siblings and I. But I cannot see what might ever force him to have to make such a choice.

I'm his second-born. I know that I can never become anything more than second. But I can live with that. He still has great love for all his other sons and daughters.

But what I don't like, is his difficulty in admitting that Fëanáro may have done something wrong. He never - at least not in my presence - tries to stop him from insulting us. And he lets me understand that when quarrels arise, they are usually my fault. I've taken things in the wrong meaning - I should accept the truth of some of what my half-brother tells me - I should generally accept Fëanáro's superiority.

Never!

I know when Fëanáro is trying to insult me. It's not my fault that there is ground for quarrels. Incidentally, Arafinwë agrees that the quarrels are my fault, but not because I should accept everything from Fëanáro - I should just walk away without accepting it. I know that it would be better if I could - Arafinwë never quarrels with him, so I know it would work then - but I cannot. They say I'm a lot like my father in his early youth. He is as proud now as he was then, they say, but fortunately with time he became a lot more level-headed. Which could be why he was later chosen to lead his people on the Great Journey.  
When he announced that this morning's meeting would be about apologizing for the dance incident, I knew things could be awkward. And when he said that we ought to do send Fëanáro a letter of apology for what had happened to his son, I got nearly as upset as during the quarrel.

"Not to Fëanáro!" I yelled. "If anything, Maitimo was the offended part, not his father. I don't see why we have to apologize at all, but we certainly needn't apologize to Fëanáro!"

"I should have realised that my eldest son would see this as a question of rank," father said. "And he's right, you know - his line is the eldest and should have supremacy."

With father, I can sometimes stop myself from saying too much. So I didn't say 'but not the only one with legitimacy'. Instead, I told him that I might agree to introducing a pecking order for the next ball, provided it didn't go on into the ridiculous, but left a girl a chance to choose whom to dance with - but the present issue was to see whether we needed to say we were sorry for what we had done. And I didn't see the need.

"Maitimo wasn't even offended," I said. "His father was - but he always is - but Maitimo wouldn't have raised the issue if Fëanáro hadn't."

Father began to tell me not to pick on Fëanáro, but Arafinwë stopped us.

"It's not difficult to see that Fëanáro sees himself as the offended part on behalf of his son," he said. "But formally speaking, Maitimo is the offended part. And I think that Fëanáro should accept the apology for himself, even though we direct it to his son. If we need to apologize at all, I think we should do so to Maitimo."

It took some persuasion to make father agree, but he did in the end. But he insisted that a letter should be sent. I was not so sure.

We went over the facts of the matter, discussing back and forth what could have been different and what was to be expected. I pointed out that nothing had been done with the intention to slight Fëanáro or his offspring, so that an apology should not imply that we admitted any such thing. Father agreed that no offence was intended, but he could see how Fëanáro might not be so certain.

Why must he have us walk on egg-shells whenever Fëanáro is involved? Why can't Fëanáro be expected to see reason for once? Why should we always be the ones to tread carefully?

It's Arafinwë's work that we reached an agreement about the letter at all. Always the diplomat. We have agreed that we only apologize for not having had more than one place of honor on Findis' dancing list, and that we promise to create another for next time. To be offered to father's eldest son or his representative.

I still don't feel good about it, but I suppose that's what a compromise is like. I feel we're accepting Fëanáro's accusations to a large degree. If Maitimo had been the only one involved, he wouldn't have seen it as such a big deal, but his father is always looking out for some chance to slight us. Why cannot father see him through? Or doesn't he want to?

I need to relax. I thought about my healer again several times this morning. What would it have been like if she had been around? I might still have reacted to the wrongs I see committed against us, but I might have been less tense.

I try to remember exactly what I felt those few minutes at the Ball. The feeling of friendship - of companionship - of being with someone who was wishing me well, someone I could relax with completely ... I need to feel that again.

And it is as if I am feeling it again - as if from afar, she can still reach me and wish me well. It's ridiculous, probably. She may not even know who I am any more than I know who she is. If she had her back to me like I had my back to her. But it wouldn't have made any difference to our fëar. They would have met anyway.

And I would like to meet her again.


	6. Chapter 6

**189th Cycle of the Trees, 1273**

_**Nolofinwë**_

Business Agenda for this morning's meeting: Various correspondence.  
Attending: Father, Arafinwë, myself.  
Proceedings: Incoming correspondence distributed among us for answering.  
Meeting adjourned after half an hour.

Part of this morning's correspondence was a letter from Maitimo (which didn't require an answer). A very formal one, stating that he had received our letter of apology, and that he considered the matter as laid to rest. I guessed - and told the others that I did - that he sent that letter with a copy to his father. And that it was written more with him in mind than with us, in an effort to lay the matter to rest.

Father reluctantly agreed that this seemed to be a good outcome of the incident, although he still expressed some doubt that Fëanáro would be completely satisfied with the solution.

Fëanáro will never be satisfied while I remain.

And I will never give him the satisfaction of seeing me disappear.

I guess he could live with Arafinwë in my position - say, if Arafinwë had been mother's eldest son and I had been the younger. Arafinwë never answers back, he only walks away. And I think he would have been less assertive of his position than I am. But why shouldn't we be assertive of our positions? We're the sons of one King and the grandsons of another! Our lineage is no more base than Fëanáro's. Miriel was no princess.

My healer, my healer, where are you when I need you? Just thinking of these matters makes me upset. I need to relax.

Out in the city later in the day, though, who other should I meet than Maitimo himself! He confirmed that Fëanáro had been sent a copy of the letter, but he wouldn't discuss his reasons for sending it. He's very loyal to his father. Things easily become awkward between us whenever I mention Fëanáro.

We loosened up when we got to talking about the Ball itself, though. I asked him whether he had danced with Findis at all, and he smiled and said that he had in fact managed to get two dances with her. He agrees that she's a good dancer. I think he enjoyed himself more than I did that night. He doesn't seem to mind so much being on display.

At least there won't be another Ball for quite a while. And I hope to be out of the next one anyway - it should be Arafinwë's turn to suffer it on his own next time. Findis' birthday party is just a small private family affair, and wouldn't have been anything to worry about, if it hadn't been for Fëanáro. He may send Maitimo again, I hope.

Did I mention that I need the soothing presence of my healer?

I must look for a present for Findis tomorrow. I'll go to the market again, I think, and see whether they've still got any of those things my attendant suggested last week. If only we don't meet Fëanáro first.

Fëanáro.  
And Fëanáro again.

With all the maidens thronging around me at the balls, I know at least that it won't last forever. When I choose a wife some day, I won't be in demand in the same way any more. I'll be a representative of the host, and I think that after a while I'll enjoy the balls again.

I don't know what I could do to change Fëanáro's opinion of me, though.

My healer, my friend, I need you! I need the presence of a friendly fëa who doesn't make any demands on me. Who accepts me with all my pride and all my inability to stay out of quarrels. Who is willing to be friends, even when it means taking my side against Fëanáro. Someone to relax with.

And you could be such a friend - if only I could find you ...

_**Anairë**_

Sometimes I dearly wish that it were as easy to heal myself as it is to heal others! I am terribly weary, and my back aches from hours today bent over my clay, working, and painting, and glazing, and getting everything prepared for the market tomorrow. If I were someone else, I could use the wisdom my grandmother has taught me to knead out the tension in my back and relax the protesting muscles. But it is terribly difficult to massage a back you cannot even reach!

Nonetheless, I have a good collection of pieces that should fetch me a fair price at the market. Another collection of statues of the Valar, several different designs of cups, and bowls, and vases, and something new that I have never done before: statues of a representative member of each of the three Kindreds of the Eldar. I have a small statue of a Telerin girl on one of their white swan ships, with her mouth open in song. One of a Vanyar sage sitting crossed-legged, looking up into the face of Manwë with respect, and one of a Noldor craftsman, hard at work. I meant for the Noldo to look something like Prince Fëanáro, as with his great skill in lore and in craft he is the epitome of our people. But alas! the statue bears instead the features of Prince Nolofinwë. One would think as I have only seen Prince Nolofinwë but a few times in my life, and have never been close enough to speak to him, that putting his features in clay would be exceedingly difficult. Much to my suprise, it was not. My fingers formed his face, his eyes, his mouth as if they had always known them. I do hope that nobody will notice the likeness.

It is strange that someone I have never officially met could have become so quickly such an important part of my life. But alas! Eru works in mysterious ways, and who am I to question this?

I find myself wondering what his voice sounds like. I am certain that it is strong and commanding, but perhaps there is gentleness in it as well. And wisdom, perhaps, although likely this may be softened with passion and temper. And yet my heart desires not to find wisdom there, but yearns for the passion! And his eyes - what colour are they? What is his favourite food, his favourite colour, his favourite song? I find that I know so little about him, and so much of it I shall never know. Yet I know his _fëa_, and even now I feel the touch of it. I fear that he is sad, that he is alone, that he is troubled. That he carries the weight of Arda on his shoulders. If only I could place my hands on those strong, broad shoulders and work away the tension!

But such things are not possible.

I may send love and healing to him, for I know, if the _fëa_ is open, that a connection may be made without words, over any distance. But will he be open to me? Will he receive my good will? Or will he continue to suffer in solitude, never knowing how much I wish to soothe his hurts?

Nonetheless, I will try. I will send my love to him every night as I have since our_ fëar_ met, and I hope that in it he will find shelter from his griefs and troubles.

It is the least I can do for he that I love.


	7. Chapter 7

**191st Cycle of the Trees, 1273**

_**Nolofinwë**_

I don't know where to start.

I really don't know where to start.

I feel like I could run to Makalaurë and ask him to write me a song, and then I would run to the top of Tirion and sing it out to all the city!

But I also feel like I would rather sit down and sing it softly into one ear only ...

I went to the market as planned this morning. My attendant took me to the stall where he had seen those statuettes last week. There were still statuettes, and he said that these were new, not the same ones as last week. I only had time to see that some of them didn't seem to be of the Valar at all, before the saleswoman noticed us and came over to help.

And my fëa recognised hers.

I don't rightly know what I said at first. It wasn't very coherent. I blurted out with something like 'Weren't you the one I didn't see at the Ball?' - which, to anyone other than my healer wouldn't make much sense. Even my attendant, ever the discreet one, silently raised one eyebrow, before stepping back a little, giving me some privacy.

She just stared at me.

I tried to remedy what I'd just said.

"You were at my father's Ball, were you not?" I said. "Even though I didn't meet you ..."

Which wasn't much of an improvement. I've never felt as flustered in the presence of a maiden before. And she continued staring at me, trying to stutter something. Finally she seemed to compose herself, looked down, curtseyed to me and answered, "Yes, I was at the Ball for a short time ..."

Now she quite determinedly didn't look at me. She stared instead at the statuette I had been about to lift up to look at. And to my relief, she turned businesslike.

"You wish to buy something, my lord?" she asked.

"Yes - I suppose I do ..." I mumbled, looking down at the statuette again. Perhaps, I thought, it would be easier to get back later to what I really wanted to say.

Her statuettes were amazing. This one - and the two next to it - really wasn't of a Vala. They were of Eldar - one of each of the Three Kindreds.

"This is really good," I told her. "Princess Eärwen over at Alqualondë - daughter of my father's friend Olwë, King of the Teleri - has a ship very much like this one. And here -" I pointed to the next one - "this could be, say, King Ingwë, my grandfather, when he listens to the wisdom of the Valar? But oh - this one is my favorite, naturally."

I picked up her Noldo statuette. Whatever I think about my half-brother and the way he is treating us, I've always admired him as a great craftsman. And this was his very posture at work.

But not his features.

"I would like to buy this one," I said. "I don't know whether this is intentional on your part - but he looks so very much like my father. How much is it?"

She named the price, I paid for it and gave it to my attendant for safe-keeping.

"But I nearly forgot," I said. "I need something for a birthday present as well. For Findis, my sister - you may have seen her at the Ball. I thought perhaps a vase - or is there anything else you would recommend?"

She offered to make something special for Findis. I told her how much I appreciated the offer. We discussed patterns for a little while, and then, checking first that my attendant seemed more concerned with keeping people off than with listening in on everything I said, I mustered all my courage.

"And please," I asked, "could you come to our house and deliver it yourself? At the Ball - I could feel that you were there, that my fëa met yours. You made me feel comfortable. And - I would like to see you again."

She looked at me, suddenly shaking so much that she had to clutch the table to steady herself.

"You felt it too?" she stammered.

I looked into her eyes. Finally she had dared meeting my gaze.

"Oh yes, I felt it," I told her. "As soon as I walked into that room, I could feel that there was someone in there with whom I could relax. It was refreshing. But very soon - before I had the chance to turn around and look for you - I could feel that you fled."

Looking away again, she admitted that she had fled - and attributed it to some silly notion that it wouldn't be proper for me as a prince to have the daughter of a simple scribe as my 

friend. As if all of my friends were only sons and daughters of nobles! Well, perhaps most of them are, but even so ...

I told her how much I disagreed with her notion. I asked her to try to forget for a while that I am a prince.

"Your fëa met mine," I reminded her, "without looking at rank. There's some kind of kinship between our fëar, I think. Especially if you felt it too. And rank doesn't come into it."

She looked up at me again, and for some time we were just staring into each other's eyes. After a while I felt as if I was staring into her fëa itself.

And our fëar were opening up to each other.

On some occasions Arafinwë and I have shared thoughts, one fëa to another, without needing words or being near each other. His mind has reached out to mine, conveying his need for help, and I have wordlessly promised my help, and later made good on my promise. I have felt that we have got closer to each other through such incidents.

I have also, a couple of times, tried it out with my attendant, just to know that we would be able to communicate, if secrecy were necessary - purely on a technical note, with no emotional closeness being involved at all.

But even my closeness to my brother had been nothing like this. She opened up her mind to me completely. My fëa reacted by doing the same to her - if indeed there is kinship between them, what other thing was there to do? Wouldn't this be part of what it was for?

We shared. We shared our names - oh, she already knows my father name, that's no secret - but we even shared our mother names, which none of us use and very few know.

We shared secrets. And I realised - just like father had done about mother, many years ago - that she loves me and has loved me for a good while already. Ever since that moment at the Ball.

And I also - finally - realised the truth about myself and about what my feelings for her have become. It's no longer her friendship that I want.

She was the first to speak.

"Arakáno ..." she said softly.

I answered as softly.

"Vórimatári. My Queen. I love you."  


Her answer to this was to come around the table, blushing, smiling, and to put her hands into mine. Her soft, delicate hands ... She smiled up at me, her eyes twinkling. I'm a good head taller than her, and I smiled back down at her. She's such a lovely little thing - I want to protect her ...

"You love me?" she asked, squeezing my hands. "Can this be true? I feel as if I am dreaming!"

"If you are dreaming, then so am I, and we are dreaming the same dream," I answered.

I can understand, though, why she thinks about dreaming. I do so myself. It came so suddenly - I never expected love to happen this way. But I know now, to the depth of my being, that Anairë is the match of my fëa, the woman I'll love until the end of the world.

"I thought that I only wanted your friendship," I told her. "But now I've realised that I want so much more than that. And you love me as well, don't you? Please, tell me that you do. I want to hear you saying it."

She told me. She told me how she didn't think I would ever return her love. And she held on to my hands, as if they were necessary for her to know that this really was no dream.

Oh my love, I wish I would never have to let go of your hands!

She promised to make me a gift for Findis. She said it would be the most beautiful gift I had ever seen. She promised to have it ready in four days, and she refused to take any payment for it.

"Then it will be a gift from both of us," I said. "And perhaps I should ask her to invite you to the small family birthday party - but you should meet father and mother before that, I think. When you come to deliver the present, we can try to arrange something."

I smiled down at her again, and had only one thing to add.

"Of course, that day I'll have something to ask you as well."

Her reaction to that - stepping even closer to me, gazing up at me, looking even happier than before - gives me no fear for what her answer is going to be when I ask her. If we had been in a less public place, I would have asked her there and then - but despite my attendant's efforts to keep people at a distance, still a crowd had begun to gather behind us, and it was time for me to leave her in peace. We will meet again in four days' time, when she delivers the present.

And now I'm sitting in my chamber, with her statuette next to me on my desk. My mind 

reaches out to her, wishing her a good night's sleep, and she answers, returning the wish. I recognise it - so she really has been trying to reach out to me a few times now! If I had realised what was going on, perhaps I would have responded even earlier.

I know so little about love. If I had lived in a different family, I might have asked my father more about it - but as it is, I feel cautious about asking.

I really see some of father's features in the face of that statuette. It's amazing that with only the few times she can have seen him, she has grasped his looks enough to render some of them this faithfully. She has formed this clay - her soft fingers have kneaded and rubbed it - I can still feel the touch of her hands.

I love her!

Eru Ilúvatar, I thank and praise you for bestowing the gift of love upon your Children!

Oh, and there was a meeting this morning as well. Something about more correspondence, I think. Unless I'm confusing it with yesterday.

_**Anairë**_

_Eru a laita!_

I raise my voice to the heavens and cry my praise to Ilúvatar! Nay, not cry - sing! My heart is near to bursting with song, and still I cannot keep the tears from my eyes. Is it not odd how we weep not only in those times of greatest grief, but also of greatest joy?

And joy like this I have never felt before.

This morning, mere hours ago, my life was as normal, and now - now everything has been changed, everything has been altered, and my heart has been given wings.

I went to the market today as usual to sell my goods. I had set up my table, and placed my statues and pottery around it, taking time to ensure that it looked its most presentable. Then I sat down behind it, and began painting one of my pieces, waiting for someone to show interest.

And then someone did.

I knew before I even looked up that it was Lord Nolofinwë, and my heart leapt in my chest as once again I felt the touch of his fëa - the same connection I had felt at the ball. Swallowing my love, I went to him, but he spoke before I did, and his words robbed me of my voice.

'Were you the one I didn't see at the Ball?' he said. I stared. I was afraid to move, to speak, to somehow cause this moment to be other than it was. I was even afraid to hope. I felt my hands begin to tremble, and clenched them tightly, the timbre of his voice echoing throughout my soul.

_That was what his voice sounded like. Strong. Proud. Strangely comforting._

Although I had never before heard it, it was like I had heard it every day for all of my life.

I couldn't answer. I couldn't bring myself to think in words.

'You were at my father's Ball, were you not?" he said. "Even though I didn't meet you.'

A question. Questions needed answering. He wanted me to answer. I searched for words, but they seemed so...so small. So insignificant. So entirely incapable of expressing what I was feeling. We are Noldor, the most talented of our kind at the use of language, and yet at this moment, words failed me completely. Struggling, I choked out a simple answer to a simple question, and told him that I had, indeed, been at the ball for a few moments, while remembering my manners and dropping a deep curtsey.

Then I noticed the statue he held, and my heart began to pound. It was the Noldor statue that I had made - the statue of him. Would he recognize himself? What would he think? Would he think ill of me? Would he think me silly? My throat went dry with fear, and I forced myself to adopt a business-like demeanor to cover my terror.

'You wish to buy something, my lord?' I said in a voice that was far calmer than I felt.

He seemed to relax a bit as well, and I took the cue from him, letting out a bit of the breath that I had been holding. He spoke of something, my statues, I believe, but I did not hear the words. He was here, before me, and he had noticed me at the ball! He had felt something too, then?

He pulled me out of my reverie with another question - he wished to buy the statue. He said it reminded him of his father. Another sigh - I had been saved from humiliation for today, anyway. He had not recognized that it was a statue of him.

I told him the price, and he paid it, handing a statue to a man who stood back a few paces, seeming to be attempting to keep people away from us.

_He will leave now,_ I thought, _And I shall never speak with him again. But at least I shall always have this moment..._

But he didn't leave.

But I nearly forgot," he said. "I need something for a birthday present as well. For Findis, my sister - you may have seen her at the Ball. I thought perhaps a vase - or is there anything else you would recommend?'

I blinked. He wanted a birthday present for his sister. From me? He wanted me to make it? I forced myself to think, ideas spinning through my head of the lovely things I could make.

'I shall make your sister a special vase, my lord, a lovely vase for flowers? Every lady should have flowers in her room, and the right vase can bring out their colours and textures...' I was rambling, and I knew it, but this was safe territory. Talk about my craft, about colours and design - this I was comfortable with. This I could do.

Then he stole my words away again.

'And please,' he said, 'could you come to our house and deliver it yourself? At the Ball - I could feel that you were there, that my fëa met yours. You made me feel comfortable. And - I would like to see you again.'

I staggered. I know I did. My knees felt as they would go weak beneath me, and I looked up at him and clutched the table to keep from falling. My hands were trembling. My whole body was trembling.

'You felt it too?' I whispered, afraid that at any moment I would awaken and discover that this had only been a dream. I was afraid to move, as if somehow even the touch of the breeze could break this spell.

He said he had felt it, and that I had fled before he could speak to me. I swallowed, and attempted to speak, but my voice did not even sound like my own.

Yes, I fled, my lord. I did not think it was proper that I stay. I..."

I wondered suddenly how much I should tell him. It was likely that he felt only friendship for me, was it not? I did not want to burden him, if that were so.

"I do not think that I am a proper...friend...for you, you see. I am but the daughter of a simple scribe, and you are a prince of my people.'

He frowned.

'I know that I'm a prince, but couldn't you try to forget it for a while?' he said, telling me that rank had not come in to the feelings he had felt at the ball.

I looked up at him, and suddenly I was lost in his eyes. But it was more than that. I had heard from others that sometimes, like in the joining of hearts, there could be a joining of minds as 

well, but until this very moment I had not understood. It was as if for that moment, all walls between us fell, all barriers opened, and we faced each other fëa to fëa - and there was love. But there was also trust. My fear evaporated, and a smile touched my lips. He would not hurt me. He would not reject me. We were one, and yet two. Two, and yet one - as a flower has both petal and stem seperately, but both are needed to make the whole. And now I - we - were whole.

'Arakáno...' I said, breaking the silence in a soft voice that carressed his mother-name as if it were the most precious thing I had ever known.

'Vórimatári. My Queen. I love you.'

It was more than I could bear. I had to touch him. I had to know that this was real. I closed the distance between us and took his hands in mine, feeling at once his strength. I looked up at him, into the piercing blue eyes so prevalent in the House of Finwë, and smiled. I had come home at last.

"You love me?" I asked, squeezing his hands. "Can this be true? I feel as if I am dreaming!"

"If you are dreaming, then so am I, and we are dreaming the same dream," he said, and I shuddered at the sound of his voice. Then, dropping it a bit, he told me that he had thought that it was my friendship that he had sought, but he knew now that it was so much more. Then he begged for me to tell him the words.

I smiled, allowing this dream to take flight.

'Arakáno, my beloved,' I said softly, understanding his need to hear it, although our fëar already knew. 'I love you...I...'

But what else needed to be said?

'I love you.'

Then, my nerves coming back, I spoke quickly.

'I shall make your sister the most beautiful gift you have ever seen. I shall make it for you in the time you require, and I will most certainly not accept payment for it!'

He smiled, and thanked me. Then he asked me to bring the gift when it was done, personally. So that I could meet his parents. Then he added the _coup de grâce_.

'Of course, that day I'll have something to ask you as well.'

I did not need to ask what that question was. I shuddered from the intensity of feeling. Of 

course, this was understood between us, now. Eldar did not make a declaration of love and then not follow through with marriage. Marriage! Marriage to Nolofinwë Finwion - the King's son! Fear coursed through me until I remembered that he was also my Arákano, my beloved, the other half of my fëa. Still, there would be much for me to adjust to. To think of a home like King Finwë's as being home to me as well! It was too much to process right now, too much to understand. I gazed up at him, at a loss for words, smiling from my very being.

But there was a crowd gathering - Prince Nolofinwë taking such interest in an ordinary girl like me was sure to raise eyebrows. It was time that he go. There would be more time for us to talk later. I stepped back, and bowing to me, he joined his attendant and left. I was left staring after them, my hands still feeling the press of his. I could still feel the warmth of his presence, the sound of his voice still echoed in my ears.

And now Telperion waxes, and the golden day - golden in so many ways - has faded into memory. But it will not be the last golden day. Oh no, not now that I love, and am loved in return! It is more than I ever dreamed, even in my most quixotic moments. There is no way to explain this to someone who has never felt it. It is as if each moment, each beat of my heart, each second knowing that he loves me, is as precious - nay, more precious - than the light of the trees. For it is a light of its own, but a light that never waxes or wanes, but is steadfast and enduring.

I do not know how I shall tell my parents. They shall be pleased, of course, although I do not know if they will believe me. They have never believed that I would marry well, and, indeed, I never believed it of myself. Perhaps I should wait...wait, and bring him back here to meet my family, and explain it to them then.

Yes, that is what I shall do. They must believe me when he is standing in front of them. Standing behind me, as I shall always stand behind him. Supporting me, as I shall always support him.

The candle flickers. I close my eyes and feel him reaching out to me. A smile curls my lips and I return his love, and wishes for a peaceful sleep.

A laita, Eru a laita!

Praise be to Eru for the glory of love.


	8. Chapter 8

195th Cycle of the Trees, 1273

_**Nolofinwë**_

Life is so much happier now. I love, and I am loved in return, and my mind can reach out to my beloved and be soothed in stressful situations. This morning when I met Fëanáro in the street, I actually smiled at him in passing.

The expression on his face afterwards was priceless. I've never seen him as surprised before. He looked as if he thought I had lost my mind.

Will this elation wear off with time? Can it last? I don't know. As I said, I don't know much about love ... I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

But I should perhaps not reach out to her quite as often. She chastised me playfully this evening. "You only gave me four days to finish this, you know," she transferred to me. "If you keep disturbing me this much, it will be your own fault if I don't finish it on time!" But at the same time, my fëa could sense how much her fëa enjoyed the contact ...

Eru Allfather, again and again I praise you for the gift of love!

She made me relax during this morning's meeting as well. Oh yes - I forgot again. I'll put it in here instead.

Business Agenda for this morning's meeting: Findis' birthday party.  
Attending: Father, Arafinwë, myself.  
Proceedings: Decided on the seating order.  
Meeting adjourned after one hour.

We discussed whether the seat next to mother or the seat next to Findis should be considered the place of honor, and whether - in light of recent events - it would be safer to offer one rather than the other to Maitimo. I was so much more comfortable about it than usual, because I knew I could reach out to Anairë when things became too tight. I did once or twice.

At least it really is Maitimo who will be coming. He can act civilly even to mother. But we expect Fëanáro to demand a full report from him when he gets home, so we want to ease things both for him and for ourselves.

I've gathered some reports for my own purposes as well. Unlike my sisters, my parents won't request of me to marry nobility. But I owe it to father to check that his daughter-in-law will come from a respectable family.

So I had some enquiries made yesterday. I didn't want to probe Anairë for more information about her family, so I asked my researchers to find out who had rented that particular booth at the market.

The reports came in today, and they are very satisfactory. Her father doesn't occupy any important position, but he is a skilled scribe, and well respected in his profession. Father should have no objections.

I tried to prepare them for the news this afternoon. I told them that I had commissioned a work of art for Findis for her birthday.

"The artist will bring it here herself the day after tomorrow," I said. "And I would like you to meet her."

It seemed that mother caught onto something right away.

"_Her_?" she asked. "Is she ... beautiful?"

I just stared at her. I couldn't tell. I haven't really noticed.

"She's lovely," I finally found my voice. "Her fëa is lovely."

The next moment I had mother's arms around me in a tight embrace. She didn't say any more, but her eyes shone.

"She's welcome," father said. "We would surely like to meet her."

I fear that things will not go as smoothly with my sisters. Perhaps Anairë isn't beautiful according to their standards. And she certainly is no princess or noble lady like they have been going on about. I won't tell them until after father and mother have met her, anyway.

Arafinwë, on the other hand, is a lot more sensible. When I got back to my rooms after talking to mother and father, he was waiting in my lounge.

"What was going on between you and Fëanáro today?" he demanded to know. "I was behind you in the city this morning - I don't think you even noticed - and I saw the look he shot you. Whatever have you done to make him react like that?"

I suddenly felt very sheepish.

"I smiled at him," I admitted.

"You what - ?" he asked, incredulously. "I've never known you to smile at Fëanáro in the streets - ever! What in the name of all that is precious did you do that for? If you did it to aggravate him, I'd rather you stopped smiling altogether. It's bad enough that you react the way you do to his insults - you really shouldn't retaliate with any of your own."

"I didn't do it to try to aggravate him," I said. "I was just in a good mood."

"Then who were you with last night to induce that?" he asked. "I've never seen you in a good mood whenever Fëanáro is around. How much did you have to drink? I can only see two reasons for your good mood - either intoxication or infatuation."

"I did not drink enough to get intoxicated last night," I said, feeling even more sheepish. My face was suddenly growing rather warm.

"Infatuated then!" he roared with laughter. "Oh, my dear brother, you really should blush more often! That color goes so well with your black hair!"

I pounced on him, and we wrestled with each other until I held his arms pinned to the floor. I'm a lot stronger than him, and he knows it.

He admitted defeat, and I released him. We got up again, both smiling.

"But you do admit infatuation, don't you?" he asked. "I've often wondered what maiden would be the first one to catch your fancy. Do tell me."

"I've admitted no such thing," I said. "And I'd rather not talk about it at all for the next three days, if you don't mind."

He reached out for my mind, and I made myself unwilling to let him read my thoughts. He became very serious.

"Nolofinwë, if you're in real trouble with Fëanáro, I beg you to tell me," he said. "If you've done something to make him give you that look today, and you're to face the consequences in three days from now, I want to know well in advance. I'm willing to act as a go-between if you need one."

I felt like a whole flock of sheep.

"It's very good of you," I said. "But it's got nothing to do with Fëanáro. It's - oh, I'd better admit it then. You're right. It is about a maiden. But I'm not sure that infatuation is the right word for it. I always thought that that was about fancying someone and trying to work out whether it was anything serious or not. This is very different. The reason I asked you to wait for three days, is that the day after tomorrow, I'm taking her to meet father and mother. And I would have wanted them to be the first people to know."

"And I blew that?" Arafinwë said gently. "So this is the real thing, then? You just suddenly knew - like when father met mother? Love at first sight? A meeting of the fëar?"

"Not quite like that, but very similar," I admitted. "Look, I'll tell you more after she's met father and mother. And don't tell the girls."

He promised. Then something seemed to strike him.

"I wonder ..." he said. "Could it be that artist they said you had spoken to at the market the other day? I didn't take any notice then - you know how it is with us these days, if a maiden in the market is so nervous she takes more than her usual time to count our change, it is the news of the city for days. But might it be her? Making pottery and sculptures, they said."

"Statuettes rather than sculptures," I said. "And - yes, it's her. She's rather good at what she's doing."

"Then I hope the girls won't mind," he said. "They've been going on and on about princesses and noble ladies. And I take it from what was said, that this maiden is not a lady."

"Not yet," I said.

So now I have an appointment with Arafinwë for when Anairë has been presented to father and mother. Perhaps she can meet him as well, and tell him herself. Although I think that meeting father and mother will be enough for her in one day. There will be time for her later to meet my brother. And he will want to hear my version anyway.

Good night, my love. I'm sorry if I was disturbing you in your work. But I love you so. I'll try to be more patient. It will only be two days before I can see you again.

And hold your hands.

_**Anair**__**ë**_

Never in my life have I worked so hard on one piece of pottery!

Yesterday I must have restarted Princess Findis's vase ten times before I got the shape that I wanted. Perhaps I am being a bit hard on myself, but I want it to be perfect. I want her to like it. I want _him_ to like it, and to think well of me. And I want this gift to his sister to show him how much I love him.

Although I wonder if there is anything at all that could possibly do that, anything that I could ever give him that could begin to express my love for him. I still feel so entirely unworthy of him. I know that this was meant to be, even ordained by Ilúvatar, perhaps, but I cannot help but wonder if he is dissapointed that the I am but a poor Noldor maiden, instead of a lovely Vanyar or Telerin princess. He does not seem to be, yet still I wonder.

It is a strange feeling, no longer being alone. Solitude was a state I had always expected for myself, and I never thought I would experience the wonder of always having someone there to fall back on. Yesterday, when I was frustrated with my vase, thinking I should never get it right, I felt his touch, like soft, whispery comfort, and found the strength and calm I needed to begin again. He is there. He will always be there, a part of me, connected to my fëa, as if Eru had made our fëar as one. Perhaps that is what He did? Perhaps, at the beginning of time, each fëa was divided into two, and cast into Arda, and it is our purpose in life to find the other half? Perhaps it is a silly story in truth, but I must say that to me it feels true.

This afternoon, I was working dilligently in my studio when he reached out to me, and in our conversation, I could not help but laugh. I chastised him - only half meaning it - and his half-meant apology left me bubbling with joy and giggling softly.

Unfortunately, at that moment, Raimë entered my studio.

'Anairë?' she asked, the suprise evident in her voice. 'Were you laughing? You never laugh.'

She looked around the room as if expecting to find the cause. I reddened. I had hoped to stay quiet on the issue until I had a chance to bring him here myself. Otherwise, I feared my family would never believe me.

'I -' There really was no point in lying. 'I was,' I said, hoping my sister would leave it at that.

No such luck.

'Why?' she asked. 'I don't see anything particularly amusing about your vase. It is pretty, of course - all your vases are - but not funny.'

She came and sat on the corner of my work desk.

'Actually, you have been acting quite odd lately, all together. Will you not share your feelings with me, Anairë? We are sisters, and I like to think we are close. And I share everything with you.'

It was true, Raimë had been my confident, and I hers, since we were children. I sat back in my chair, fiddling with a piece of clay so that I did not have to look at her. I found myself embarassed. Would she believe me, or think that I had lost my mind entirely?

'I...I will tell you, Raimë. But you must _promise_ not to tell mother or father. I _must_ do that myself, in my own way, in my own time.'

Raimë looked at me, a bit concerned, and took my hand in hers.

'Sister, is all well? You are not in trouble, or hurt in any way?'

'No!' I nearly cried, for nothing could have been further from the truth. 'Not at all, my dear, dear sister! All is well. All is more than well.' I could feel my face brighten as I said the next words. 'Sister, I am in love!'

'In love!?' Riamë said in shock, before returning my smile and squeezing my hand. 'But - but this is wonderful! Oh, Anairë, who is he? You must tell me everything! All the details! Does he love you in return?'

'He does,' I said with a smile, answering the easiest question first. 'Oh, Raimë, he does!' I said, my voice breaking. 'He loves me, and it is almost too much for me to bear!'

At that point, I realized that I had held this inside far too long - even though it had only been a day. My heart ached to tell the world, to shout it from the rooftops of Tirion.

'Then I suppose I shall soon lose another sister,' she said. 'But I am happy for you.' She took my other hand, so that she was clasping them both. 'But you have told me nothing, not even his name.'

'It is difficult, sister...' I said slowly. 'He is...' I paused, wondering how to tell her, and figuring the direct way was the best. The words rushed out. 'It is Prince Nolofinwë, Raimë. I know you shall not believe me, but it is true, it is. I have not lost my mind. I spoke to him yesterday at the market and he loves me, our fëar met, Raimë, and he loves me!'

I do not think Raimë could have looked more suprised if I had told her I was marrying one of the Valar.

'Prince Nolofinwë,' she said, almost in shock. 'King Finwë's son?'

'The very one.'

'But...how?'

'I have been asking myself the same question, Raimë, and I don't think there is a good answer for it. But what matters is that he loves me, and I love him, and I have never been so happy!'

Raimë looked at me, still trying to absorb the news, but her smile brightened as she realized that I was telling the truth. I opened my mind to her, and her eyes softened.

'It is true. With all the maidens in Aman swooning over him, my dear sister has won the heart of Prince Nolofinwë!'

With that, she dropped my hands and pulled me into a tight embrace, her joy evident as she wiped a tear away.

'I am so happy, Anairë. I was always so sad to see you alone, and so angry to hear the things father said. About how you would never find a husband, and always saying that you were not as pretty as your other sisters. This will show him, it will! It will show him how wrong he was. You must let me be there when he finds out.'

Raimë embraced me again, and tears started streaming down my cheeks.

'This is proof that often the greatest joy comes unlooked for, is it not?' I asked, wiping my eyes. 'Oh, look at me! A watering pot again!' After I dried my eyes, I took her hands again and squeezed them.

'The day after tomorrow I must go to his house and deliver this vase to him. It is for his sister, for her birthday. And I shall meet his parents. And I think then he will ask me to marry him.'

Raimë squealed and embraced me.

'But you mustn't tell mother and father, do you hear? You must promise. Swear it, Raimë. Swear you won't tell.'

'I promise it, Anairë. I understand why you want to tell them yourself, and I would never do such a thing to you. Have faith in your sister's love, dearest.'

I embraced her again, tightly.

'But for now, sister, I must finish my vase. I have scant time, as it is.'

She embraced me once more, and left the room, but I did not worry that she would tell father anything. I knew that she would not.

And now, it is time to sleep. Tomorrow I must finish the vase, for I must have it in the kiln to bake by early evening, if it is to be done in time. I think I shall worry the whole time, and I doubt I shall sleep at all tomorrow night. What if it cracks in the kiln? I do not know what I shall do! Perhaps I should have made a second, just in case?

I feel Nolofinwë's soft touch.

All will be well.

The day after tomorrow I shall see him again, in person, and know again for certain that this is not just a dream. A dream! I could never have dreamed anything so perfect.

Ah, my love, you did not disturb me. You could never disturb me. But yes, patience is a virtue that you lack to some extent, I fear. I have a deep sense of forboding that it will someday be your downfall. But enough of dark thoughts; they do not belong here tonight. Rest now, dearest love, and let the weight of the world from your shoulders. I shall always help you carry your burdens.


	9. Chapter 9

**199th Cycle of the Trees, 1273**

**Nolofinwë**

This day has been everything that I was hoping for it to be! I can hardly believe that it's possible for anyone to be as happy as I am now. Well - Anairë might be just as happy, perhaps.

I could hardly concentrate on anything today while I was waiting for her. I had to find something to read in the end, it was impossible for me to do any work.

Don't ask me what I read. I believe I chose poetry. I don't usually read much of it, but I've got a couple of Makalaurë's books on the shelf. It seemed to fit the situation. I hope he doesn't ask me whether I've read them. Or perhaps he would understand, and write a poem about it ...

Finally a servant arrived.

"There's a woman here to see you, my lord," he said. "One Anairë."

I would have been on my feet in one leap, but I tried to retain some of my dignity.

And hers.

"That will be Lady Anairë, actually," I said, calmly standing up.

"She didn't look like a ..." he began, but stopped when I stared him down.

After a few moments he bowed his head and murmured,  
"If you say so, my lord."

No lady? She's my queen, right?

She was waiting outside the door. Poor thing, he hadn't even let her into the hall. But the good thing about it was that I could take her straight into the gardens. More privacy there.

She delighted in the flowers, kneeling in front of a rose bush, having left the parcel she was carrying, on a bench. Yes, our gardens are rather splendid. They keep the head gardener and his assistants busy all the year round.

Anairë isn't used to splendid gardens and a grand mansion, though. They seemed to overwhelm her, perhaps even frighten her a little. I hope she will get used to it. Eventually. She told me about her dream of having a small garden of her own, with flowers, and with herbs for the sick.

I loved the delight in her eyes when she was watching the roses. Oh, I could gaze at her for hours! Beautiful? Perhaps not stunningly, at least not according to my sisters' definition of beautiful. But there is noone I would rather be gazing at for years and years to come.

Finally she rose, picked up the parcel and gave me. I sat down and opened it.

I've never seen a more exquisite piece of pottery, and I told her so. Findis should be ever so pleased.

"You really think she will like it?" she asked. "If not, I would have started all over again, but then it wouldn't have been finished on time."

"I'm quite sure," I reassured her, and put the vase down safely on the ground next to the bench. I didn't want to go inside with it just yet. I wanted to sit here and talk with Anairë.

I was toying with the wrapping paper. She was staring at my hands. As if she could see what they wanted to do. To touch her, to caress her - and to hold her tight and protect her against anything that might frighten her. She seems so easily frightened.

"I fled that night because I didn't want you to think me presumptious," she said. "I didn't think I had a chance with you, and I wouldn't want you to think I did. It feels so strange to be here now - and yet, when I look at you, I feel at home ..."

I want you to feel at home, I thought.

"So that's why you fled?" I said. "I wouldn't have thought you presumptious even if you had stayed. I had to be polite to a man I was talking to, but I was only waiting for him to finish and go away, so that I could find out who it was that made me relax so much. I've thought of you as my healer ever since. You mentioned herbs for the sick - do you really do healing?"

Her eyes brightened.

"I do," she said. "My grandmother taught me many things - about sleep draughts, and calming teas, and ways to help cuts and wounds heal, especially with children."

She will be a wonderful mother.

Her eyes brightened even more, and she was proud, when she said, "I even created a special burn cream for your half-brother, Lord Fëanáro, after he burned himself badly at his smithy."

Fëanáro!  
Always Fëanáro!  
Even into a moment such as this he must follow me, cannot leave me alone, must remind me that he would begrudge me the right to be happy, the right to even exist.

She must have seen something in my expression, because she started to talk faster than before, telling me that she was learning massage as well, often practising on her father.

I shouldn't be taking it out on her. It isn't her fault. As so often, I knew that I needed to relax.

And when she, blushing, asked if she could practise on me sometime, I realised how much she could help me in this way. My heart raced as I thought about what it would feel like to have her hands kneading my shoulders. Not there and then, I wouldn't risk being found in my gardens receiving massage from a female stranger, it wouldn't at all be proper - but later.

"That would be so good sometime, my dear!" I said. "I go to the healers occasionally for massage, and getting it from you would be so much better. Sometime, when you're more at home here. You said that you feel at home already. I hope - nay, I rather believe - that you'll let me make you at home here completely. Will you marry me?"

She stared at me.  
She tried to speak, seemingly unable to do so. She just blinked at me.

And then she began to weep.

I forgot everything. I threw away the wrapping paper I had been toying with, would probably have thrown away the vase if it had still been inside it - I forgot that people might come and see us, and that it might not be quite proper. I only knew that she needed comfort.

I put my arms around her and pulled her close to me. I murmured soothing noises into her hair, stroking it gently.

"Oh, my love," I whispered, "did I frighten you so much? I didn't mean to. Was I too sudden? If you need more time to think about it, just say so. I don't mean to put pressure on you. I wouldn't hurt you for the world. Just take your time."

She relaxed in my arms. She snuggled into my embrace, laying her head against my chest, her weeping eventually stopping. She looked up at me and softly touched my neck with her nose.

"Of course I don't need longer, my beloved," she said. "Yes, a thousand times yes, I will marry you."

The words that I had been hoping for. Words that made me so immeasurably happy. What else was there to say other than 'thank you'?

I brought my face down to hers, and as gently as I could, I kissed her.

And she kissed me back, uncertain at first, and then more and more boldly.

Finally she withdrew, a big smile breaking out on her lips, to be replaced with a happy laughter.

I could listen to her laughter for centuries!

"We must share this," I said. "I told my parents about the vase, and that I would like them to meet the artist. They would like to meet you. I'm sure mother has guessed what's going on already. And I just can't wait to present such a lovely fiancée to them."

I was prepared that she would be a little taken back at the prospect of finally meeting the King - but I wasn't prepared for her reason.

"But I cannot meet the King!" she said. "Not like this!"

I didn't understand at first. Like what? Then it dawned on me that her dress was a different style from what my sisters are using. Something to do with fashions, probably. I didn't care. But perhaps she did.

I tried to reassure her, telling her that I could see nothing wrong with her dress, and that father met all kinds of people wearing all kinds of clothing all the time anyway.

She protested that she was afraid that he would see her as a poor supplicant, as a gold digger. I said that he would think nothing of the sort, seeing how proud I was of her and how much I loved her. I told her about the research I had made, and that I knew that her lifestyle didn't include all this wealth.

"And I know that you never looked for it," I said, "that you speak truly when you say that you would be happy with a simple life.  
But this is my lifestyle, you see. You'll just have to learn to live with it, as it will be yours as well. As soon as possible, you shall have a garden of your own - that will be the beginning."

We talked a little more, about gardens, and about being able to spoil children ... we agreed that we wanted to have more children than my half-brother, and she suggested we have ten! He only has three so far, and I doubt he'll beat ten ...

It's so different now when she mentions Fëanáro, now that she's joined me and is on my side! The future mother of my children. I will enjoy my part in making them. I told her so, and as expected, she blushed, but she smiled, agreeing with me.

Then she decided that we might as well get the introduction over with, and we went inside. I nearly forgot the vase, but she reminded me. I had us announced, and my parents were awaiting us in a small parlor. I led Anairë in, holding her hand.

"Mother and father," I began, and found to my surprise that I had to make an effort to keep my voice steady.

"I am proud to introduce to you the Lady Anairë, the artist I told you about. She has just done me the honor of promising me to become my wife."

"Your wife, my son?" father asked, sounding a little surprised. I don't blame him - I must admit I had sprung it upon him a bit suddenly. It had all happened so fast.

Father rose, came over to us, and took Anairë's hand in his.

"Your are very welcome, my dear," he said. "I am glad to see that my son has found someone special."

Anairë curtsied and tried to speak, but again she couldn't. Father gestured for us to sit down, and asked her about her parents and about how we'd met. She began to say something about her father, but very soon she was overcome with nervousness again, and I filled in, telling what I had found out about him, and even mentioning the ball - but then I stopped. I really should let her tell her own version of that.

It helped, apparently. By now she had regained some of her confidence, and she told about what had happened at the ball and later at her stall in the market.

Father smiled.

"Very well, son," he said, "if she is the one you want, I certainly will not keep you from her! You shall have to have her parents here, and I shall plan a feast for your betrothal."

"She is indeed the one I want," I said, putting an arm around her shoulders.  
"Thank you, father."

He rose to dismiss us, and mother gave me a tight embrace - and when she was done with me, she embraced Anairë as well.

Back in the garden, I smiled at my beloved.

"You survived," I said. "Meeting parents isn't all that dangerous. And I'm next, I suppose? What about tomorrow?"

We agreed to meet in the market the next day, and then go to her home together. We talked a little more about the gardens, and then we kissed each other goodbye, and she left.

I miss her already.

But I can reach out to her, like I have done so often over the last couple of days. We're not _really_ apart. It's a good thing.

Was there a meeting this morning?

**Anairë**

I am to be married!

Even writing the words they hardly seem real – I stare at them on the page and I can barely believe them.

Anairë, engaged to Prince Nolofinwë!

I spent most of the day pacing the house nervously, trying to hide my unease from my parents. Raimë knew, of course, and did her best to soothe my nerves without alerting mama and papa to the reason, but there was little she could do. Never have hours passed so slowly!

When the time arrived for me to leave, I checked my appearance again in the mirror – never good enough! – then took the gift for Princess Findis, and made my way into Tirion to the house of King Finwë. Standing there and knocking on the door made me feel very small indeed. It is such a grand house – even the door is ornately carved! The servant who answered looked at me in disdain, making me clutch the vase I had made even more tightly and choke out my request to see Prince Nolofinwë.

'Do you have an appointment?' he asked, his disapproval evident. I suppose I cannot blame him – if every maiden were allowed to see Nolofinwë at their request, he would do nothing except entertain them!

'Yes,' I said, ashamed at the sheepishness in my voice. 'He asked me to bring this gift for Princess Findis.'

The servant looked at the wrapped package in my hands and held out his to take it.

'I shall take it to him,' the servant said, seeming pleased to have come up with a way to get rid of me.

'No,' I said, summoning my courage. 'He wanted me to give it to him myself.' I wrapped my arms tightly around the wrapped vase, making sure the servant could not relieve me of my reason to be here before I saw Nolofinwë.

He looked at me, annoyed, but turned on his heel and stalked down the hall, leaving me standing alone in the doorway. I looked down at the marble floor, and at the artwork and carvings that decorated the walls. It was like a house out of a fairy story, every inch of it more lovely than the next. And my Nolofinwë lived here. As I waited for him to arrive, I tried to imagine what it would be like to walk down these halls as if I belonged... I swallowed the feelings that created in me, determined to examine them later. For now, there was enough to worry about.

After several minutes, I heard steps in the hallway and turned quickly. My heart caught in my throat. What if the magic were gone? What if what we had felt four days ago was gone, a fleeting attraction that waned with Laurelin's light?

But it was not.

The moment he entered the room, my heart seemed to come alive, pounding within my chest as if it wished to run to him and throw myself in his strong arms. I looked up at him, for a moment trapped in the depths of his blue eyes, coming back to myself only when he spoke.

'Welcome, Vórimatári,' he said, using my mother name in a way that seemed to carress my very fea. 'Won't you come with me to sit in the garden for a while? We can be in private there - and you can show me what you've made.'

I nodded and managed a slight curtsey, before he took my hand and tucked it into the crook of his, leading me out to the gardens.

The gardens!

He must have thought me provincial – but I could not help but gasp with delight! I have never seen such gardens! Flowers of every hue and shade surrounded me, their blooms bright and their fragrance filling the air around me. I smiled; I could speak of flowers without fear. It was comforting to have something to talk about where I did not feel completely out of place.

"Oh, I have never seen such lovely flowers! We have neither space nor time to care for them properly...I have always wanted to have a little garden - nothing so grand as this, of course - in which I can grow flowers of my own. And herbs, as well, for the sick, of course. But your garden - it looks as if it is tended by Yavanna herself!"

And suddenly, with Nolofinwë's indulgent smile fixed on me, I felt again very out of place. _Did_ he think me provincial? I looked down, and clasped my hands tightly in my lap, suddenly without words.

Needing desperately to break the silence, I rose and went to the bench where he sat, lifting the parcel and giving it to him carefully.

"Here is what I have for your sister, my lord. I hope you like it..."

Should I have said that I hoped that _she_ liked it?

"Oh, this is beautiful!" he exclaimed. "I don't think I've ever seen anything more exquisite. Thank you so much! My sister should be ever so pleased."

His words warmed my heart – words of praise from Nolofinwë mean more to me than I ever deemed possible – but my eyes found his hands, entranced by the way they held the vase. Strong hands. Big hands. Hands that could hold me and keep me safe from everything that threatened me or frightened me. Hands that could brush away tears, and hold me close. I could almost feel his carress as I watched him hold the vase, and a tiny shudder travelled my spine.

Finally I found my voice, but the words that came out were not the ones I had planned. As if I needed to spill my heart to him, I told him about fleeing from the party, confiding in him my fears and insecurities, my eyes now fixed on my hands in case he found this explanation ridiculous or in some other way unpleasant. I did not think I could bear his censure.

But he did not censure, or scold.

Hearing his words, I looked up at him, and smiled as he asked about my healing. Wanting him to think well of me, I began to tell him of the things I had done, and the people I had healed, thinking he would approve of the fact that I had once healed his half-brother, Fëanáro.

I was desperately wrong.

The moment I mentioned Fëanáro's name, his face went black with an emotion I could not quite read.

I began talking faster, hoping that I could dispel this negativity. I began to tell him of the newest skill I was learning from my grandmother – the art of massage. I told him how I had practice on my father, and then before I had a chance to think the words through, I heard myself say:

'Perhaps you would let me practice on you sometime, my lord?'

I turned bright red. Had I really said that?!

But his smile had returned, and he seemed pleased by my suggestion, telling me that he would love me to do that – when I was more at home here.

At home here?

I looked up at him, almost in disbelief, knowing what was coming next.

'I hope - no, I rather believe - that you'll let me make you at home here completely. Will you marry me?'

I blinked, because it was the only action my body would allow me. I was stunned, paralyzed, shocked. I wasn't sure if I was breathing, or even if my heart was still beating.

I had been expecting this, since Nolofinwë and I had met in the market four days ago. Or I thought that I had been expecting it. He had told me that he would ask me, had he not? And yet I understood now that believing in my mind that this moment would come and actually experiencing it were two separate and profoundly different things.

I tried to speak, but the words would not come. The best I could do was make a kittenish mew, which forced me to cover my mouth with my hand.

I blinked again. That, at least, seemed within my power.

I felt almost as if I were looking down on myself, seeing this conversation and this situation from someone else's point of view.

A girl who would soon be the betrothed of Lord Nolofinwë. A very lucky girl, but a girl who could not possibly be me. Right?

Another blink.

And suddenly, the reality of it hit me, like a drenching wave off the sea. It swept over me, the emotion choking me, drowning me. I felt the tears welling within my eyes, and before I had a chance to control them, I whimpered, then began to weep – choking, consuming sobs that reddened my eyes, and left paths from the salty tears down my cheeks.

And then I was in his arms, snuggled as naturally as if I had been born to be there. I lay my head against his chest, listening to the beating of his heart and feeling waves of safety and calm washing over me. Everything would be fine. I would be happy.

_We _would be happy.

My sobs subsided into mere sniffles, and I looked up at him my eyes streaked with tears, but the fear melting into something far happier. I nuzzled his neck with my nose, cuddling into his safety, his warmth, his comfort. This was my home, had always been my home, here, in his arms. I snuggled closer, breathing in the scent of him as my heart, fea and hröa, all together, accepted his proposal. I gazed up at his eyes as he thanked me – thanked me!

And then he kissed me.

I had always before thought kissing to be a rather strange and unhygienic practice – but perhaps that was because I had never been kissed. Kissing Prince Nolofinwë filled me with joy beyond reckoning, and after a few moments, laughter – joyous laughter – burst from my heart.

And then he said that he wanted me to meet his parents.

Now.

Like this.

In this simple dress.

I looked at him, stuttering, trying to explain to him why I could not meet the king of my people dressed like this.

He didn't seem to understand. Of course he would not understand – he is a man.

I should have known.

'You must understand, my love, that I have never wanted more than a simple life,' I told him gently, indicating the garden around us. 'I never wanted any of this splendour, any of this wealth. I would love you equally if you were a craftsman or a labourer...but will your father believe that? I fear that all he will see is a poor girl who has somehow bewitched his son.'

I reddened when he told me that he had looked into my father – had he feared I would not be good enough for him as well?

'But this is my lifestyle, you see. You'll just have to learn to live with it, as it will be yours as well,' he said, and I could not help but stare at him. It was true, of course it was true, but to hear it stated so baldly drove it home. Could I ever belong here? I belonged with Nolofinwë...but did I belong here?

The fear from earlier returned, and although I tried my best to push it away, it settled in a lump at the pit of my stomach. But I thrust it away for the time being, again to examine later, and began talking of the first thing that came to mind.

Children.

His children.

The children we would have together.

The joyful talk temporarily eased my fears and after a few moments I decided that it would be best to get the talk with his parents over now, before I had any more time to stew and fret over it.

We went inside, and we were given an audience with the King and Queen. I think that only Nolofinwë's support kept me standing as my nerves took over, and I began to shake from head to toe. King Finwë looked at me kindly, and took my hand – I thought I would faint at such familiarity from the King – and I found myself once again unable to speak. I curtsied, struggling to regain my voice, as Nolofinwë explained to him about my father.

Then he addressed me.

'Ah yes, and tell me how you met my son.'

Thankfully, I had found my voice, and squeezing Nolofinwë's hand, I also found strength.

'It was at the ball,' I told him, 'and although we didn't speak, I knew when I first saw him that I loved him. But I left hurridly, because I never dreamed he would return my feelings! I met him again just four days ago, in the market where I was selling my pottery. That is when we spoke for the first time. And when we knew.'

I glanced over at Nolofinwë with a twinkle in my eye, and felt a surge of joy unlike anything I had ever felt before surge through me.

This was real.

We are to be married!

I reached out to him, touching him, and feeling his happiness, I almost began to weep again; this time with joy.

The meeting with his parents ended soon after that, and he escorted me back to the garden, smiling.

I assured him that meeting his parents hadn't been _that_ traumatic, and couldn't help but laugh when I warned him that yes, it would be his turn next!

After a few more precious moments, we parted with a kiss.

How can I miss him so much already?

Here, without him, I find my heart misgiving.

Will I be able to be what he deserves?

Will I be able to do what is necessary of a wife to a Prince of the Noldor? Will he decide in time, after the novelty wears off, that he would have been happier with one of the Vanyar princesses his sisters had pushed him to accept? I am but a humble girl from humble backgrounds – I have not been trained to run a grand house, and I fear that he shall be disappointed in me...

When he comes here tomorrow, will he be disgusted by my simple home? Will he find us lacking culture? Will he think us beneath him? My house is small, but it is my home, and it has shaped me, and who I am. If he is displeased with it, does it mean that he is displeased with me? He can give me amazing and wonderful things, but what I want most from him is acceptance of who I am. And tomorrow will be the greatest test of that.

But through my worries, I feel his touch. Gentle and loving, yet strong. Supportive. 

_All will be well_, he tells me, and I hope that it is true.


End file.
